The emotion or state of fear (φόβος)Footnote 2 is quite expectedly prominent in a drama that represents a clash between two determined and powerful armies; even more so, since this clash is viewed in close connection with a dreadful family-curse. Following the revelation of Oedipus’ killing of his father and incestuous affair with his mother, the hero cursed his two sons (e.g. 66-8, 876-7 [ἀρὰς / δεινάς],Footnote 3 1051-4), praying that they would one day kill one another by engaging in a murderous strife.Footnote 4 The brothers, who agreed to divide the throne of Thebes by reigning alternately, indeed find themselves in conflict after Eteocles refuses to hand the throne over to Polynices. This conflict assumes the form of a large-scale showdown between Thebans and Argives, and results in the brothers’ mutual slaughter; their appalling bond (regularly emphasized as their common blood and common womb) is thus sealed.
Against that unsettling familial background, it is no wonder that fear and related emotions are pervasive, even when they are not directly mentioned. All the more so, since the drama is preoccupied not only with the Labdacids’ tainted history, but also with the (interconnected) ancient pollution of the land of Thebes, a pollution that goes back to the city’s legendary foundation by Cadmus (1-87). Thebes’ history is reconstructed and interwoven with the present events primarily through the choral odes.Footnote 5 It has been demonstrated that these odes explore the tension between nature and civilisation, the hazardous taming of wilderness (e.g. through imagery of cultivation and hunting), and reinforce the pivotal role of monsters who have been posing a threat to the city at different stages of its history (the Serpent, the Sphinx).Footnote 6 Such elements enhance an atmosphere of perennial danger, intimidation, horror, and awe.
When directly spoken of, fear seems to be operating on two levels, which are not totally distinct. On both of them Eteocles plays a crucial part, since his way of relating to fear appears to be, potentially or actually, destructive. Both levels are also marked by successive shifts of perspective and complicated or frustrated expectations. First, and more obviously, fear is explored in connection with the war and its outcome (that is, with material environmental stimuli), as a typical form of response to the threatening events unfolding. In comparison to Aeschylus’ Seven against Thebes, the Euripidean engagement with that sort of ‘circumstantial’ fear is less pronounced, in the sense that the play does not exhibit substantial interest in its concrete sources, manifestations, or symptoms, while it also presents fear as affecting virtually all parties at some point or other.Footnote 7 Quite schematically, emotions of agony and apprehension affect both the female characters (Antigone, Jocasta),Footnote 8 who still retain some involvement in the war-related action, and the male ones, whose (expressed) worries or considerations lead to specific initiatives concerning the war (Polynices, Eteocles, Creon).
At the same time, fear is explored as a motivating factor on a more conceptual or abstract level – a force behind the developments that are not narrowly concerned with the battle but mostly relate to the characters’ values or convictions and beliefs; the rhetoric of fear, in fact, proves an important means for highlighting those values. The central characters regularly explain how fear (or the lack of it) directs their behaviour, attitude, and choices, which as a rule have a significant bearing on how things will turn out.
1. Fear and the Field of War
With respect to the reality of armed encounter, fear proves an important subtext in four crucial stages of the action, which either prepare for or conclude the fatal confrontation: (1) in the Teichoskopia scene,Footnote 9 where Theban civilians (Antigone and the Tutor) visualise the tangible, imminent threat posed by the invaders. This visualisation establishes the polarity between internal safety and external danger – which will be blurred in the ensuing scenes. As one might expect, fear is mostly explored in connection with concrete physical stimuli (e.g. the warriors’ stature, armour, and threats), but also with the possible workings of the divine; both elements give rise to anxiety about the battle’s outcome and future state of affairs. (2) More loosely, in Polynices’ fear-related reactions and reasoning during his successive encounters with his mother and brother, again within the confines of the palace – as in the Teichoskopia scene – which is, however, now viewed as a threatening place. (3) In Creon’s and Eteocles’ deliberation over their war strategy, which directly deals with the battle’s odds, after any attempts to resolve the issue through peaceful negotiations have proven fruitless. Through the juxtaposition of a rather impetuous and inexperienced Eteocles with the ‘wise-adviser’ Creon, the exchange touches upon the broader role and effects of the warriors’ confidence, and secondarily fear, during armed encounter. (4) In the Messenger’s narration of the clash between the armies and the brothers, which tells of the dreadful deeds that conclude the disaster. The reporting breaks into two parts that shift the dynamics of fear, since the first one instills some hope and relief, while the second one leaves horror and mourning as the only possible response – after a frantic, futile effort to avert the mutual fratricide.
In most of these cases, a less engaged or more sober and knowledgeable party (the Tutor, Creon, the Messenger) undertakes to ‘manage’ and ‘direct’ the fear or confidence of his interlocutors, who require instruction because of mere ignorance or misjudgment (Antigone, Eteocles, Jocasta). These scenes overall trace the build-up of apprehension, turmoil, and uncertainty in a disturbed community under threat, no less through the subsequent reversal or frustration of expectations and the shifting of perspectives. Each scene starts with an exchange that strictly refers to the place of physical confrontation and ends up shifting to ambiguous moral considerations. I will now review these four scenes in order to clarify the various roles of fear in each of them.
1.1 The Teichoskopia Scene
The Tutor and Antigone offer a rather schematic picture of the ‘foreign’ forces while overlooking the plain from the palace’s rooftop. Antigone, who is understandably unfamiliar with the world of warfare, has entreated her mother to let her see the army. The Tutor is able to provide additional glimpses into the opponents’ camp, since he has already carried the terms of a truce to Polynices (88-91, 142-3). The pair first points to the enemy’s threatening movements (κινούμενον . . . / στράτευμα) and the alarming sights and sounds of a rather generic sort (109-13 [κατάχαλκον / ἅπαν πεδίον ἀστράπτει . . . μυρίοις δ’ ὅπλοις βρέμων]).Footnote 10
Even though the heroine subsequently inquires into the particular identity of each Argive champion,Footnote 11 there is no real focus on their character-qualities or special history and status. Antigone primarily centres on their different armour and on certain unsettling physical features, expressing a blend of fear and anxiety, curiosity, and wonder. Like the Scout in Aeschylus’ Septem, she remarks on the frightful physique of Hippomedon, who looks like a giant (127-8, φοβερὸς εἰσιδεῖν),Footnote 12 as well as on the terrifying eyes of haughty Parthenopaeus (145-50, γαῦρος, ὄμμασι γοργός)Footnote 13 and on the dreadful, irreverent threats that Capaneus is uttering against Thebes (179-80, δεινά . . . ἐφυβρίζει; cf. 1172-86).
These physical properties reinforce a material danger and, to some extent, aggravate the menace posed by those fighters, especially from the perspective of the more vulnerable parties.Footnote 14 The heroine, however, overall reacts in a quite controlled manner. On the one hand, after witnessing the most fearsome and aggressive fighters (Parthenopaeus and Capaneus), she prays to the gods that they may safeguard Thebes and spare her a life of servitude (151-3, 182-92) – a common female fear (and reaction) in time of war (cf. Aesch. Sept. 327-32). On the other hand, she seeks to be reassured that her city is practically prepared to fend off the enemy (114-6).
In response to her question, the Tutor brings in an aspect that goes beyond such factual considerations as the city’s defence or the relative balance of forces and the enemy’s fighting skills. Even though the old man tries to ease the heart of the heroine by affirming that all is safe within the city – meaning that the gates are barred and the brazen bolts fitted into the walls (117-8, θάρσει̇ τά γ’ ἔνδον ἀσφαλῶς ἔχει πόλις) – he also communicates his fear that the gods might aid the attackers, since the latter have justice on their side (154-5, σὺν δίκῃ δ’ ἥκουσι γῆν˙ / ὃ καὶ δέδοικα μὴ σκοπῶσ’ ὀρθῶς θεοί; cf. 258-60). The Tutor, then, grounds his worries on a moral appraisal of the situation, that is, on the perceived righteousness of Polynices’ cause, which may (or should?) make the divine side with him.
The issue of Polynices’ possibly justified mission prepares the debate between the brothers, in which Jocasta also plays an important part. The debate precisely aims at averting the clash of the armies and all the surrounding worries that are laid out in the Teichoskopia scene.
1.2 Polynices, Jocasta, and Eteocles
The encounter between Polynices, Eteocles, and Jocasta presents us with the core of the moral conflict in the debate between the brothers (to which we shall return in section 2). At the same time it begins and ends with more incidental expressions and manifestations of fear that relate to practical considerations. Polynices’ and Jocasta’s fear, as thematised in their opening exchange, is treated as more circumstantial, while it largely presents itself in the form of precaution or hesitation. Mother and son openly express their immediate and quite rational worries, which end up informing their behaviour (rather than their attitude), since they occasion concrete patterns of interaction that aim at securing either their own (physical) well-being (in Polynices’ case) or the (emotional) well-being of their beloved ones (in Jocasta’s case.Footnote 15 ) On the other hand, the episode concludes with tangible proclamations about the battle.
Upon his entrance, Polynices employs multiple terms associated with fear and suspicion, confidence and trust: first, while addressing himself and, a little later, while conversing with his mother. In both contexts, and despite the fact that he is emotionally charged (displaying both worry and grief [366-74]), the hero attempts to rationalise the situation considerably, including the very manner in which he relates to fear. Polynices begins by stressing outright how he has been forced to sneak into his ancestral palace, which he now considers a place of enemies, out of fear of a covert attack from Eteocles (263-6, δέδοικα; cf. 357-8). His suspicions, rather than merely resting on the vague reality of his feud with his brother, are boosted by concrete clues, that is, by the fact that he has been easily admitted to the fortified city (261-2; cf. 114-6).
Accordingly, Polynices tries to embolden and reassure himself (268, τὰ πιστ’ ἐμαυτῷ τοῦ θράσους παρέξομαι; cf. 274), since he has taken all appropriate practical measures – casting his gaze in all directions and arming himself with sword in hand (265-7; cf. 361-4). His nervousness, which has been criticised by the scholiasts (on 267, 274, 275) as a (perhaps comical) manifestation of cowardice and weakness (θρασύδειλος; ἀσθενοῦς ψυχῆς τεκμήριον),Footnote 16 is largely founded on concrete evidence and facilitates reasonable protective action.Footnote 17 At the same time, it promotes the additional effect of enhancing the atmosphere of profound hostility and treachery in the royal family,Footnote 18 which is corroborated by Polynices’ doubts concerning his mother’s own disposition; the hero simultaneously trusts and does not trust Jocasta (272-3, πέποιθα μέντοι μητρὶ κοὐ πέποιθ’ ἅμα; cf. 357). When he actually meets her, Polynices reiterates his concerns (notably in 361-2, ἐτάρβησ’ εἰς φόβον τ’ ἀφικόμην), but soon adds that he does have one advantage, namely the truce and his mother’s relevant pledge (364-6, σὴ πίστις). This line of thought is justified by the developments.
The brothers’ failure to reach a reconciliation, however, shifts the focus to the pressing reality of war and attendant considerations, leading up to the next scene, which is concerned with quite concrete battle preparations. In the concluding stichomythia of the agōn, and in contrast to his former precautions and anxiety, Polynices appears to be rather fearless with respect to the impending warfare, and actually dismissive of his brother’s strength; after all, he now faces the enemy. Polynices’ fearlessness is expressly grounded on two factors, which aim at manifesting his moral and mental superiority: his brother’s presumed decadent softness and his own prudent and effective preparations. When threatened by Eteocles, Polynices asserts that no-one could harm him without suffering the same fate (594-5); Eteocles’ prowess, in particular, cannot be that great, since the prince is characterised as placing such a high value on wealth, a ‘cowardly evil’ that induces self-indulgence (597, δειλὸν δ’ ὁ πλοῦτος καὶ φιλόψυχον κακόν; cf. 438-42 with n. 38 below).Footnote 19 On the other hand, in response to Eteocles’ sarcastic remark about the big size of his brother’s army, Polynices retorts that a steadfast general is always preferable to an over-bold or impetuous one (599, ἀσφαλής / θρασύς), echoing Creon’s relevant advice when instructing Eteocles (746-7).
1.3 The Strategy Scene between Eteocles and Creon
After Polynices’ departure, Creon and Eteocles urgently discuss the Thebans’ war strategy, given that the enemies are approaching (677-9; cf. 180). Creon straightaway communicates his worry about the disproportionate size of the two armies – which is now, quite reasonably, treated as a source of concern (715, 717, 719, 723; cf. 113) rather than sarcasm (598) – and makes a point about Eteocles’ failure to assess the situation correctly, to see things clearly, due to his young age (713).Footnote 20 Where Creon relies on specific clues (the disquieting report of someone who has been captured by the Argives) and logistics, Eteocles tries to reassure him (718, θάρσει) by vaguely dismissing the attackers on the grounds that they are brave in words rather than deeds (716, τοῖς λόγοις ὄντας θρασεῖς) and by declaring arrogantly that he will soon fill the plain with dead Argives (718).
In this respect, the hero resembles his confident and resolute Aeschylean counterpart, who also undertakes to alleviate or suppress his community’s fear,Footnote 21 partly by dismissing (what he considers to be) irrational or vain sources of it – insignia, tokens, threats, bluster.Footnote 22 In the mind of the Aeschylean Eteocles, such things do not only lack any power to wound (Aesch. Sept. 397-9, κόσμον μὲν ἀνδρὸς οὔτιν’ ἂν τρέσαιμ’ ἐγώ), but are also destined to incur the wrath of the gods (e.g. Aesch. Sept. 438-46). The confidence of the Euripidean Eteocles, however, does not seem to be truly rooted in a sober reasoning of that sort or in a careful assessment of the situation. As the exchange between the two men unfolds, the prince comes across as doubtful and perplexed, and essentially submits to Creon’s guidance, initiated by the latter’s pointed remark that victory is entirely a matter of good counsel (721, εὐβουλία; cf. 735) – rather than audacity or rash reactions. Eteocles considers a series of alternatives and awaits his uncle’s approval,Footnote 23 whilst himself expressing some worry or puzzlement (734).
In this scene, the exchange offers insights into purely strategic issues, namely, the possible effects of the soldiers’ ill-founded confidence – and fear – in quite specific circumstances. While evaluating the available information, Creon soberly assesses the effects of the enemy’s fear in connection with a possible ambush. In response to Eteocles’ view that night favours daring (726), he upholds that the darkness of night is a terrible time to suffer disaster (727, δεινόν). On the other hand, an attack on the Argive soldiers while they are taking their dinner might cause them fright, but does not guarantee victory (728-9, ἔκπληξις).Footnote 24
For all his rash fearlessness and impetuousness that may put the city at risk, Eteocles is eventually convinced by his uncle and seems to take prudent decisions; the hero is advised to pick the best generals who will confront the Argive ones, but he still needs some input with respect to the criteria of choice. Creon accordingly points out that these generals should be marked by both courage and sound judgment (746-7, θάρσει / εὐβουλίᾳ). It is only then that Eteocles seems to regain control, showing himself eager to fight (and kill and be killed), and proclaims a series of orders, one of which is the consultation of the seer Tiresias (748-83). Even though the exchange to some extent echoes the closing section of the debate between the brothers (where Polynices asserts his fearlessness with respect to the impending battle), Tiresias’ involvement once more complicates things and gives rise to different manifestations of fear (which will be explored in section 2); Eteocles’ shifting attitude thus does not simply refer to the narrow world of the battlefield, but also promotes a major moral and emotional crisis.
1.4 The Messenger’s Report of the Battle
War-related expressions of fear naturally re-emerge in the Messenger’s account of the actual battle. The reporting falls into two parts, since the Messenger announces the victory of the Theban army while the princes are still alive. The fact that the developments at the seventh gate are still unfolding leaves some room for further action, as well as hope,Footnote 25 while it certainly intensifies the impact of the coming disaster. Indeed, the relief and delight brought about by the first reporting soon give way to terror followed by horror.Footnote 26
The Messenger starts off by encouraging Jocasta not to feel fear about the life of her son, Eteocles (1077, ζῇ, μὴ τρέσῃς τόδε, ὥς σ’ ἀπαλλάξω φόβου);Footnote 27 both he and Polynices are still alive (1085), while the city itself is intact (1079, 1081-2). The ensuing narration of key battle-scenes reinforces some threatening imagery, which has, however, now turned into a subject of recollection and which might actually prove pleasing to hear (by contrast with its effects in the Teichoskopia scene). Jocasta seeks the pleasure of hearing the Messenger’s account of the war, so that she may also convey it to the wretched (and seemingly remorseful) Oedipus (1086-9, τέρψω).
The imagery of war is crucial to the effect the report has on its audience. Parthenopaeus was leading a ‘bristling company’ (1104-6, λόχον . . . ἀσπίσιν πεφρικότα), while Tydeus’ shield featured ‘a lion with bristly mane’ (1120-2, λέοντος δέρος . . . / χαίτῃ πεφρικός).Footnote 28 Polynices’ shield represented the flesh-eating horses of Glaucus of Potniae running ‘in panic’, as a sign of their possession by madness (1124-5, ἐσκίρτων φόβῳ).Footnote 29 Such frightful images and symbols, rather than being explored in the light of the terror they might have caused for their enemies, make the violent subduing of the bearers of those symbols even more dramatic. The only thing that is said to have petrified all originates from Zeus.Footnote 30
Jocasta’s relief, nonetheless, soon gives way to intense agony, initiated by her inquiry into Eteocles’ and Polynices’ next moves (1207-8). This agony drives their kin (Antigone and Jocasta) to act, in an ultimate effort to avert the disaster. Their fear is actually so great that it makes both Jocasta and Antigone overcome their possible hesitations concerning the proper place of women (1276; cf. 92-5, 193-201). The Messenger first relates how the two princes recklessly decided to confront one another in single combat upon Eteocles’ proposal; in fact, he characterises their decision, supposedly taken for the common good, as disgraceful par excellence (1219-20 τολμήματα / αἴσχιστα, 1223-4; cf. 621-4, 754-5). The Messenger subsequently recounts how friends and allies of each prince were uttering words of encouragement prior to the showdown (1248-9, λόγοις ἐθάρσυνον),Footnote 31 before urging Jocasta to restrain them from their dreadful duel in any way possible (1259-62, δεινῆς ἁμίλλης . . . / τἆθλα δεινά).Footnote 32 Retaining some hope (1280-1), the dismayed queen communicates her sudden and overwhelming terror to Antigone (1270, ἔκπληξιν νέαν; 1274, τί λέξεις; cf. Aesch. Sept. 803), who hurryingly accompanies her mother to the plain.
This development also profoundly disturbs the Chorus, whose mind ‘is shivering with fear (φρίκα)’,Footnote 33 while pity ‘is piercing through their flesh’ (1284-8, διὰ σάρκα / . . . ἔλεος ἔλεος) – a remarkable combination of ‘pity and fear’ in a tragic context. The women wonder which of the two brothers they will lament as dead (1294-5), as if oblivious to the curse or to the Messenger’s relevant warning (1261-3); however, they conclude by commemorating the Furies, who will bring about a fatal slaughter (1306-7).Footnote 34
In harmony with that grim prediction, the Messenger’s final report rehearses a series of interconnected, frightful deeds (δεινά), which have been either feared since time immemorial or planned in the more recent past. In keeping with the ominous nature of the fraternal rivalry, as exposed already in the prologue, the two princes killed each other in their dreadful mutual attack (1379, ᾖξαν δράμημα δεινὸν ἀλλήλοις ἔπι); Jocasta, in response, took her own life with the very sword that destroyed her offspring (1457, κἄπραξε δεινά; cf. 1577-8) – in keeping with her prior warning to Antigone (1283).
The young heroine concludes that divine planning has truly come to pass (1580-1; cf. 154-5, 352-4), while also paying due attention to the brothers’ agencyFootnote 35 – when lamenting that Eteocles’ and Polynices’ conflict – a case of murder upon murder – has brought the house of Oedipus to ruin with horrible and grim bloodshed (1495-7, σὰ δ’ ἔρις – οὐκ ἔρις, ἀλλὰ φόνῳ φόνος – / Οἰδιπόδα δόμον / ὤλεσε κρανθεῖσ’ / αἵματι δεινῷ, / αἵματι λυγρῷ; cf. 1296-8).
To sum up, the four scenes discussed treat diverging or contrasting perspectives on concrete forms of fear that relate to imminent and rather practical developments or concerns. At the same time each scene ends with (or introduces) some open-ended ethical issue or stake (the justification of Polynices’ mission and the hero’s sound judgment, the implications of Tiresias’ ‘demands’, and the brothers’ culpability) that pertains to, or gives rise to, debates over more abstract forms of fear.
2. Fear and Conflicting Values
Fear as a more abstract motivating factor occupies a central, though perhaps subtler, role in both the crisis’ progression and outcome (away from the field of war, narrowly-defined) and its origins. At key moments the play complicates both the developments and the audience’s expectations or assumptions, whether by diverse or contrasting forms of fear (fear of the divine, fear of disgrace, fear and caring for one’s kin) or their suppression.
First, it is suggested that Eteocles’ and Polynices’ shared fear of their father’s curses might have averted their mutual slaughter – if the fulfilment of such a curse can actually ever be averted (see the prologue) – if one of them did not later come to value more highly his fearlessness as a sign of manliness and honour (clear in the debate between the brothers). Later on, Creon’s fear for his son’s life might have ruined Thebes, had the latter not given precedence to his own sense of honour and to the fearlessness deriving from that sense of honour when asked to die – and had he not done away with his father’s fear in quite practical terms. These are the two pivotal, interconnected moments at which the agents’ distinct attitude towards fear determines the course of events.
Eteocles’ shifting attitude puts the entire city at risk, comparably to his initial, rather naive, ‘war strategy’, which is fully revealed in his exchange with the more thoughtful Creon. At the same time, his attitude highlights a shift of focus from collective and civic to individualistic considerations, despite the fact that the hero attempts to identify his personal interests with those of the community – as he will also later do when deciding to fight with his brother. Menoeceus’ firm and resolute stance saves the city, despite his father’s emotional involvement. Creon’s mindset, then, also shifts from collective to individualistic concerns. In fact, through his particular utilization of fear at different moments, Creon contributes both to the city’s protection (when instructing Eteocles) and to its potential destruction (when planning to avert his son’s sacrifice at the community’s expense).
2.1 Eteocles-Polynices
Jocasta’s account of the Labdacids’ sinister history in the prologue (1-87) provides the basis for the treatment of fear as a constituent of the agents’ motivational set. While summarising her family’s grim background, the queen relates how the fear that the gods might fulfil Oedipus’ dreadful curses drove her two sons to make the contract; Eteocles and Polynices would henceforth live separately and divide the throne (69-70, τὼ δ’ εἰς φόβον πεσόντε, μὴ τελεσφόρους / εὐχὰς θεοὶ κραίνωσιν οἰκούντων ὁμοῦ; cf. 473-83). That seemingly prudent decision, however, which amounts to a rational and constructive utilisation of fear,Footnote 36 obviously failed to avert the discord – partly because one of the two, originally consenting, parties seems to reject and dismiss fear as a driving force or possible motivation in the course of events. This becomes clear in the brothers’ agōn, in which Jocasta essentially assumes the role of arbitrator, after having induced both of her sons to negotiate.
As already mentioned, both brothers (and, in second instance, the queen) expressly base several of their actions, decisions, or moves upon considerations relating to fear. Eteocles, however, approaches fear in more conceptual terms, since he implicitly links it with his very persistence to stick to his initial position with respect to the quarrel (the root of the present conflict). The hero presents this persistence as a natural corollary of a wider set of values that allegedly define him, that is, manliness or bravery, and honour (i.e., fear of disgrace). Eteocles is, of course, more broadly motivated by typical tyrannical aspirations, as his mother realizes full well (e.g. 549-58), including the conviction that it is ‘natural’ for those in power to seek to increase their power – in fact, he presents his desire to maintain his tyranny as his prime motivation (506, 523-5; cf. Eur. Heracl. 1000-8 and Pl. Gorg. 482e-484c). That generic ‘tyrannical’ mindset is in all cases inherently connected with the perception and evaluation of fear.
The debate between the princes, intended to ward off the battle, delves into the core and origins of the present crisis rather than its results or by-products.Footnote 37 Eteocles attempts to provide grounds for his breaking of the contract and for his subsequent refusal to give up the throne (not giving it up he considers an act of injustice, 524-5) – along with the rest of the community. To that end, he brings forth two interrelated arguments, which revolve around the values of bravery and honour, and which also bear political overtones. The first one is presumed to have an absolute hold, since it assumes the form of a gnomic statement; against his mother’s unequivocal praise of the values of equality, justice, and fair share (531-48), Eteocles upholds the view that acquiring or retaining the bigger share (of rulership [τυραννίς] and riches) is a marker of manliness, or rather, that allowing oneself to get the smallest share is unmanly (509-10, ἀνανδρία γάρ, τὸ πλέον ὅστις ἀπολέσας / τοὔλασσον ἔλαβε).Footnote 38 Even though that consideration might more obviously point to a misplaced sense of ‘shame’, it still relates to fear – in so far as shame is conceptually dependent on the latter concept.Footnote 39
Eteocles’ more circumstantial motive is associated with the particular way in which his brother is seeking to achieve his objective – with armed force on behalf of a foreign army. The prince asserts that he would never give up the sceptre and dismiss his numerous privileges, for fear of the Mycenaean spear (514-5, εἰ Μυκηναίου δορὸς / φόβῳ παρείην σκῆπτρα τἀμἀ τῷδ’ ἔχειν), for this would disgrace and dishonour not only himself (510, αἰσχύνομαι), but also the entire city of Thebes (512-3, ταῖς γὰρ ἄν Θήβαις τόδε / γένοιτ᾿ ὄνειδος).Footnote 40
Through his two major premises Eteocles appraises fear as an ethical motive rather than a more or less incidental reaction to specific crises. The hero correlates fear with an internalised ideal of courage, honour, and shame, that does not narrowly refer to the warrior-ethos and that should always deter one, and especially a leader, from harming one’s interests. As such, Eteocles’ way of understanding and relating to fear and bravery shapes and explains his overall attitude towards the major issue at stake – not only his response to the armed encounter at hand, but also his very resolution to violate the agreement, as suggested by his maxim about manliness.
2.2 Eteocles-Menoeceus
Fear as a motive or deterrent is thematised in comparable terms in connection with Menoeceus’ sacrifice; it is most probably the poet’s invention and an additional, shocking manifestation of the city’s deeply troubled, virtually inescapable, past. The prophet Tiresias bluntly reveals to Creon – rather than Eteocles, who has so often scorned him in the past (771-3, 865-7) – that his son’s death is absolutely necessary for Thebes’ salvation (emphatically in 951-2); this is the only way to soothe Ares’ lingering wrath springing from the slaying of his dragon.Footnote 41 In this episode fear is viewed in its interplay with: (1) courage and honour (as in the debate between the brothers) and, more peripherally, (2) truth-telling, outspokenness, and trickery.
After communicating the gods’ demand, a rather fed-up Tiresias reflects on the possible consequences of fear in connection with the particular position of the seers – essentially, with the disclosure of the truth. The seers act rather foolishly when undertaking to practise the prophet’s art, since they put in jeopardy their harmonious relations either with their fellow-men, if they happen to be the bearers of bad news, or with the gods, if they decide, or are practically forced, to hide the truth out of compassion (ὑπ’ οἴκτου) or fear; in the latter case they end up wronging the divine (954-8; cf. 925-6). Therefore, Tiresias suggests that Phoebus should be the only one distributing oracles and decrees, since he is, as one would quite expect, unafraid of any mortal (958-9, ὃς δέδοικεν οὐδένα). As things stand, the prophet himself puts his compassion and / or fear aside in order to spell out the relentless truth.
This is comparable to what Menoeceus will also do in connection with his very sacrifice and contra his fearful father, even though his course of action will require concealment and trickery. Largely motivated by the underlying fear of disgrace, the young hero is determined to die for the sake of his homeland; if his fellow-citizens were to accuse him of cowardice (994, δειλίᾳ), his life would be simply unbearable (999, αἰσχρόν; 1004-5, κακός; cf. 1314). To that end, Menoeceus has to overcome the possible obstacles posed by Creon, who is inclined to disregard Tiresias’ decrees by taking all measures possible, out of fear for his son’s life (965-6). Menoeceus eventually manages to do so by deceiving his father through crafty words (991-2, ὡς εὖ πατρὸς ἐξεῖλον φόβον, / κλέψας λόγοισιν).
Aside from this practical way of dealing with the situation, Menoeceus also draws a morally charged distinction between himself and his father with respect to the workings of fear. The hero makes a point about the fact that the fear (and resulting reactions) of the old Creon might be pardoned, whereas a decision on his own behalf to betray his country out of fearFootnote 42 would be thoroughly disgraceful and inexcusable (994-6) – especially since those Thebans whom no oracles bind are ready to fight for their country with no fear of death (999-1002, οὐκ ὀκνήσουσιν θανεῖν). Even though Menoeceus seems to project his father’s old age as the decisive differentiating factor,Footnote 43 his reasoning might at the same time imply a more conceptual distinction between fear for others and direct fear.Footnote 44
Menoeceus resembles Eteocles in so far as he sets forth a reasoning that is largely driven by his desire not to come across as a cowardly and base individual. To that end, the young hero also undertakes to control his peers’ fear (as Eteocles attempted to do with Creon, though momentarily and unsuccessfully). Menoeceus’ take on courage and honour, on the other hand, amounts to a rather generic, though admirable, responseFootnote 45 to quite exceptional, even ‘irrational’ circumstances, which demand the death of an innocent party as compensation for the crimes of the community. Against this impossible situation, the hero manages to retain the core values of a nobleman by setting aside his father’s care and fear (which is assessed as a conflicting, yet legitimate, take on the emotion in question).
Eteocles, by contrast, violates a seemingly safe, rational arrangement achieved against the background of an ‘irrational’ situation (the ἀρά), by denouncing his (self-preserving) fear and by putting forward a particular, quite cynical, perception of ἀνδρεία, which he himself essentially recognises as unjust. His altered disposition towards fear, which sets the disaster in motion (at least in part) and which is likewise viewed as morally reprehensible by his community, is, on the one hand, treated (by Eteocles himself) as a fully conscious, even characteristic, choice and, on the other hand, serves the (unavoidable) fulfilment of Oedipus’ overarching curse.
Conclusion
The rhetoric of fear in Euripides’ Phoenician Women can incorporate various situations and themes, partly because the drama scrutinises issues associated with the moral substance and origins of the dispute – by contrast with other versions of the conflict between Oedipus’ sons. These issues elucidate each character’s distinct motivation (including conflicting views of fear, bravery, and honour), which extends to much broader and intricate questions of moral and socio-political import (such as the texture and significance of rulership, wealth, justice, fairness, and equality), thereby giving a more intellectual depth to the feud.
For one thing, the theme of fear lies in the core of the myth’s background, including Oedipus’ curse on his sons. What is more distinctively Euripidean is that this dreadful curse largely manifests itself in, or finds a way of being fulfilled through, Eteocles’ shifting attitude towards fear, a shift that is otherwise presented as a conscious and substantiated decision, founded on solid, ‘timeless’ principles.Footnote 46 This shift is met with serious objections from the community, thereby giving rise to crucial moral conflicts, which highlight the broader tension between communal and individualistic concerns that pertains to all major characters (Eteocles, Polynices, Creon).
This might be viewed as a novel, subtler way to mark the ultimate transformation or distortion of the dynamics of relations when compared to the Aeschylean model. Eteocles does not find himself concerned with, or ‘seized’ by, the all-too-powerful curse in the turbulent, ‘irreversible’ moments before the battle (cf. Aesch. Sept 654-76) – as though that curse was more of an external, independent force. Instead, the ‘irrational’, uncontrollable curse seems to find a way of being fulfilled through a conscious and sober decision, founded on the hero’s professed, and deeply ambivalent, values.Footnote 47
This seems to be Euripides’ distinct way of blending the curse’s ‘irrationality’ and inevitability into a ‘rational’ and seemingly controllable state of affairs – and of ultimately laying the emphasis on the difficulties, complexities, or failings of the latter.
